Three Day Summer(45)

The house is quiet and dark when I approach it again. I’m not terribly surprised. I honestly don’t expect to see my dad around now, not after what I said and my storming out.

It’s almost six a.m. and I’m pretty tired. Still, I decide to hop into the shower before I grab a couple of hours of sleep. The lake can’t really count as bathing, can it? I try not to think about that time in the water too much as I quickly lather up and rinse off. I try not to remember Michael’s face or the way his eyes sparkled with reflected water and desire for me. I try not to feel the ghost of his hands around my waist.

I say I try. I don’t say I succeed.

I set my alarm for ten a.m. and go to sleep with my hair wet. I don’t sleep well. The damp pillow doesn’t help and neither do all the day’s events running through my mind. Both the sublime (riding in a helicopter with Michael) and the shameful (yelling at my dad) parts of it.

Still, I’m dead asleep when the alarm finally buzzes, and I get out of bed red-eyed and groggy. My hair has curled messily and there’s nothing to do but braid it. I dress quickly, slipping into one of my comfortable floral summer dresses, leaving the red flying pig bandanna hanging from my chair. I don’t have time to think about looking hip today.

I’m glad I took a shower last night so that I won’t have to take one this morning. My plan is to make it from my room to the front door in one shot and see if I can get out without seeing my dad. I’d like to get to the festival without a scene. By ten thirty in the morning, he should be out on the farm already, three hours after breakfast and two away from lunch. With any luck, my mom won’t be in the kitchen either. I’m not sure what he told her last night, but I’m in no mood to find out. I will deal with it all later. When the festival has left and I am prepared to face the consequences. I can’t miss this last day of being in the middle of the only thing the country’s talking about. It’ll probably never happen to me again.

My luck holds out and I make it out of the house without seeing anyone. I haven’t eaten anything, but it doesn’t matter. As I told Michael, we can survive without food for a long time, and I now know where to get water. I wonder if the army’s going to drop off sandwiches again too.

I make it to my medical tent at around five to eleven. From a few feet outside it, I hear some screaming and quicken my pace.

I walk in and search for the distressed patient. She’s easy to find. She’s in a corner with Anna and she’s in labor.

Anna quickly looks over at me and says, “Could you get some towels?” by way of greeting. I do so right away, happy to be busy.

When I walk over to the patient, I suddenly recognize her and the bearded man sitting with her. They were the couple with the oranges on Friday. I smile at them warmly, remembering their kindness. Despite her pain, the mother-to-be smiles back at me.

For the next hour, I spend a lot of time trying to soothe her with cool towels, tea, and—more often—by allowing her to squeeze my hand as tightly as she wants. I can tell by her husband’s face across her stomach that both of our fingers might be useless after today.

One of the doctors in the tent keeps glancing nervously at me. I don’t recognize him—he must be from another hospital—but I hear him ask Anna if she’s sure it’s a good idea to have “the girl” dealing with the pregnant woman.

“I think you’ll find us girls know a lot on the subject,” Anna says to him coldly. “Now, I think there are some bloodied feet you can tend to in that corner over there. Doctor.” I smile into my hair.

Twenty minutes later, Anna comes over and takes a peek at my patient’s dilation status.

“Okay.” She nods to the mother. “There’s a helicopter here to take you to the hospital and I think you’re good to get on it.”

“We can’t have the baby here?” the husband asks.

“It’s going to be safer at the hospital,” Anna says as they help the mother up.

I walk out with them and watch them get on the helicopter, all the time trying not to think too hard about helicopters. Or oranges. I find I’m swallowing a lot.

After they’ve safely taken off, Anna walks back to the tent with me. “How was your day yesterday?” she asks.

“It was fine,” I say.

“Did you have fun?” she asks.

“Yes. It was great,” I say. And then, thankfully, we are hit with another influx of patients, and neither of us has any time for more questions.





chapter 54


Michael


I drift in and out as Jefferson Airplane plays on, and by the time I fully wake up, there’s no music at all. I walk over to look at Amanda’s watch. It’s noon.

The sky is overcast and cloudy. It looks like it’s going to rain again.

“I feel so disgusting,” Amanda says as she gets up and looks down at her muddy arms. Then she looks over at my clothes, which are still caked with the stuff from yesterday and again today, and looks even more bewildered. “So are you,” she says matter-of-factly.

I guess now that I have my backpack, I can switch into the change of clothing I brought. I slowly bring the bag over and swap my shirt for the Monterey Pop T-shirt that’s balled up at the bottom.

For a second, I think about suggesting the lake to Amanda, but then I decide against it. I don’t want to taint that memory. I want it to stay as perfect and pristine as it is.